


grow so small in front of you

by urieskooki



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Canon Compliant, Jealousy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-06 04:37:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11028783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/urieskooki/pseuds/urieskooki
Summary: It starts when Shirazu brings home a boy.





	grow so small in front of you

**Author's Note:**

> i missed shiraurie and had this old wip lying around that i thought i should finish so here : )

It starts when Shirazu brings home a boy.

The boy in question is short, all delicate angles and long, soft lashes that he bats at Shirazu  _ constantly.  _ His bones are fine (too fine, Kuki thinks to himself, so fine that he could break them if he just reached across the fucking dinner table where they’ve been forced to sit for this torturous meal), jutting from his thin cheeks and from his wrists when he reaches for his glass of water. 

Kuki isn’t bothered, he tells himself. No one else is, so why should he be? 

Maybe he’s just never considered Shirazu an option - not when he catches pretty girls sneaking out of a certain room down the hall late at night, lips swollen and necks kiss-bruised. Every preconceived notion goes to shit the minute Shirazu brings home a  _ boy,  _ and suddenly Kuki can’t quite take air into his lungs properly.

So he eats quickly, excuses himself from the table early with his half-eaten meal and goes down into the training room to punch something until his knuckles bleed.

Nobody pays him any attention on his way out and he doesn’t expect them to.

 

He’s in the middle of wiping sweat from his forehead when a flash of movement on the stairs catches his attention. He doesn’t bother turning in that direction, just reaches for his water bottle and brings it lazily to his lips, liquid slipping coldly down his throat.

“Urie, right?” He hears, subdued, and smiles slowly in response.

“Yeah.” He folds his arms, glad for the height he holds in one gloved hand over this new boy’s head as he looks down his nose at him, eyes impassive as he can get them.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to pretend you like me or anything. I know you don’t. Ginshi already warned me when he said you’d be down here.”

_ I wasn’t,  _ and then,  **_Ginshi,_ ** _ huh?  _

“What else did darling Ginshi tell you?” He raises his water again, one eyebrow quirked, and watches in amusement as the boyfriend valiantly (but to no avail) fights back a blush. “What else did your wonderful  _ lover _ warn you of?”

“Um -”

“I bet he told you that this is all just an act, right? That I’m not really that much of an asshole once you get to know me?” He leans in so his face is mere inches from the other’s, swallowing a laugh when the boy’s eyes widen as he inhales quickly, one sharp breath.

“Yeah, he… He did, yes.”

“And I suppose you believed him?”

A short nod.

Kuki snorts, “Well, he was right. This is all an act, I suppose. But  _ he’s _ not going to find out what I’m really like and neither are you.” He blinks slowly, and the other swallows, “Because, honestly, I think you’re too much of a pushover for someone like him.”

It’s spiteful and it’s nasty, and Kuki knows he should stop, but his lips keep forming words and spitting them out.

“I’ll honestly be surprised if you make it to the end of the week before he dumps - “

“Urie, that’s enough.” Shirazu’s voice comes in warning from the staircase and Kuki wants to laugh so he does. Mean and scathing, just because it will hurt.

Then he watches Shirazu take the boy’s hand in his own and lead him upstairs again, apologising quietly under his breath, not before shooting Kuki a glare that says,  _ ‘we’ll talk about this later”. _

 

Of course, later means never, and Kuki is right because Shirazu comes home the next day with raw, wet eyes and they don’t see the boy again.

(He tries not to feel satisfied that it’s probably his fault).

 

Then there’s another girl. She’s just as pretty as the last boy, with long dark hair that reaches her waist and eyes that seem to shine right through Kuki’s soul. He doesn’t bother learning her name either, not after they disappear up to Shirazu’s room halfway through dinner together and the rest of the group tries to pretend they hadn’t seen the greasy way Shirazu grinned at her.

Kuki leaves the dinner table early this time too, but he doesn’t go to his bedroom or the training room. Instead he goes out, and doesn’t take a moment to collect even his phone with him on his way.

He’s too wound up to do much but sit in the park as the sky continues to darken and he seethes, because  _ Shirazu doesn’t just limit himself to girls and that’s fucked everything up. _

If he’s going to choose now to be honest with himself he can say he’s never let himself think about it too much because Shirazu is Shirazu, and he takes pretty girls home and fucks them so quietly that no one would even know unless they saw them leaving (which Kuki does).

And then he wonders how many guys have been in Shirazu’s bed, and wonders how they leave so quietly, without even Kuki noticing (But then he remembers the fear of being caught with another boy is so different than being caught with a girl).

He wonders if Shirazu catches himself eyeing up boys that take his fancy and has to tear his gaze away for fear he’ll be seen, for fear someone will know what he’s thinking about.

Then he finds himself thinking about the girl herself, whether she’s good enough for Shirazu (of course she is, maybe even  _ too _ good, knowing Shirazu’s impossible talent of making anyone like him) but some part of himself still questions whether she really deserves someone like Shirazu. And then he reminds himself it’s none of his damn business whether Shirazu is with people good enough for him or not.

(But he still sits outside on the park bench until late in the night, late enough that he thinks she’ll be gone when he goes back).

 

The next morning is nothing if not tense, and for a single moment, while he gulps down scalding coffee, Kuki wonders if Shirazu somehow figured it all out and is just waiting for Kuki to crack.

There’s no way he could, right? There’s no way he could be that observant.

At least that’s what he tells himself when Shirazu shoots him a calculated glance across the kitchen when everyone else is looking away.

 

The third is another guy, but maybe Kuki would class this one as more of a man rather than a  _ child _ barely out of high school.

This man is tall, broad shoulders filling out his silk shirt (in a way that is definitely intentional) before leading down directly to a thin waist. His teeth are straight and white in between plush lips as he smiles at Sasaki, murmuring something that Kuki barely catches because he’s too busy checking out the guy’s perfect ass in his slacks.

He’s winning in every way, right down to the relaxed arm around Shirazu’s shoulders while he introduces himself rather than let the other do it for him.

Like all the others, Kuki misses the name through his haze of jealousy and irritation.

The man smiles softly again, and there is nothing arrogant about it but there’s the definite knowledge that he’s wantable, especially when he winks at Mutsuki as if to see him blush. He succeeds.

Kuki wants to point out that this man clearly doesn’t deserve Shirazu - not when he flirts with anyone else at the drop of a hat, not when he offers to clean up after dinner and Kuki knows it’s just to win everyone over (which he succeeds at too), not when the steady thump of Shirazu’s bed against the wall later that night tells everyone that the only reason he’s here at all is to fuck Shirazu into his own mattress.

The worst part of it all is that in the morning he’s  _ still there,  _ and he walks out in one of Shirazu’s shirts like nobody will notice the teeth marks in the column of his throat. Kuki clutches his mug so hard that it shatters in his fist and spills coffee all over the marble floor beneath him. It stings the cuts left by splinters of porcelain but he’s too busy sweeping the mess into the sink before storming out to focus on the pain.

It’s only when he gets upstairs that he feels the hot scald in his palms and realises blood is steadily beading from various cuts into his palms.

He locks himself in the bathroom and attempts to dig the shards of porcelain out himself - wondering all the while if this is some strange metaphor for his inner turmoil.

While he’s clumsily trying to wrap his hands in gauze (just until the bleeding slows), Sasaki ducks his head in, a question clearly on his lips, and then his eyes drop to Kuki’s hands and he sighs. “What have you done to yourself this time, Urie?”

“I don’t need any help.”

“Are you sure?” Sasaki watches as Kuki struggles, dropping the bandage sticky-side down onto the tile by his foot.

“Yes, I’m fucking sure.”

“Are y- “

“Fine.” Kuki hisses through his teeth, tacking on a low “ _ please _ ” as an afterthought. He doesn’t dare verbally  _ ask _ for help, but hopes Sasaki understands what he’s trying to convey anyway. It seems he does, and maybe he pities Kuki, because he wordlessly takes the medical kit and rifles through it.

“Did you clean these?”

“No.” Kuki huffs.

“You really should have. What if they get infected?”

Kuki elects to say nothing in response and simply closes his eyes, leaning his head back against the wall and ignoring the dull sting in the cuts, and he wants to tell Sasaki it’s fine, they’re already starting to heal, but maybe part of him just wants someone to show him at least the tiniest amount of care, and maybe that’s what stops him from saying anything.

It’s a strangely intimate moment. Just the two of them sitting in a cramped bathroom with Kuki’s blood on their hands.

“You’ve been behaving differently for the past few weeks, Urie.” Sasaki says, breaking the uncomfortable silence that had fallen on them. “I know you like to act like you don’t care about… well,  _ anything,  _ but this isn’t like you.”

_ And what am I usually like then?  _ He wants to bite back something mean, something that will make Sasaki shut up and refrain from asking something like this in the future, but instead he just swallows his words down and thinks for a minute before cautiously asking, “What do you mean?”

“I mean you’re even more irritable than usual, ever since Shirazu brought Hayate home. Do you… Are you… Does that make you… uncomfortable?” He sounds out slowly, seemingly already preparing himself for Kuki’s response.

Kuki cracks one eye open and glares down at Sasaki, “Are you suggesting that I actually care where Shirazu puts his dick? I couldn’t give less of a shit.”

(Liar).

“Besides, wouldn’t that be hypocritical of me?”

Sasaki blinks,”So, Urie, you’re- ”

“Yeah.”

“- Jealous?” He finishes and Kuki snorts dismissively, even as panic fills his throat. He can’t even think of anything to say to hide it.

“I guess...” Kuki says, before he can talk himself out of it, “I guess I am.”

Gently, Sasaki begins to wind a long length of gauze around Kuki’s hand, “Everyone gets jealous sometimes, you know.”

“But not  _ me.” _ Kuki spits, “Not about this.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I think Shirazu  _ wants _ to make you jealous.” Sasaki smiles slowly, speaking like Kuki is a small child, which has always infuriated Kuki to no end - the only thing that stops him from sitting up and decking Sasaki in the face is the way he looks so honest, like he isn’t at all trying to insult Kuki, like he’s just trying to actually  _ help. _

Surprisingly, Kuki finds himself tearing up - and he hates it, because he’s never cried like this in front of Sasaki, never felt like there was a lump of ice stuck in his throat when he tried to swallow, never had to blink away the hot tears clinging to his lashes, never felt like covering his face just to hide how close he was to crumbling.  _ Never. _

Kuki shakes his head, like that will hide anything from Sasaki - he’s long since learned it’s impossible to do so.

But Sasaki stays quiet, because it seems that he knows how fragile Kuki is, and the rest of the day passes in silence. No one even bothers coming to see if Kuki will come out of his room after he locks himself in it.

The next, Kuki doesn’t even meet. But he hears the laughter from the dinner table and the sound of the front door closing after a long night. Shirazu stomps upstairs and into Kuki’s room with a satisfied grin on his face that only serves to irritate Kuki more.

“You coulda at least come downstairs ‘n said hello to him.” Shirazu flops back onto Kuki’s bed, dodging the jab aimed at his ribs before propping himself up on his elbows. “He was nice, but I dunno if he’s right for me.”

“And this concerns me  _ how? _ ”

“Just thinkin’... I was wonderin’ what yer opinion on me gettin’ dates is.” The look on Shirazu’s face is worrying, enough that Kuki turns back to his painting so he doesn’t have to see it.

“I don’t care.”

“Ya sure?” 

“Yes, I am sure.” He reiterates, “Or are you such a dumbass that you’ve fooled yourself into thinking I do?”

“Alright, alright. Touchy.” Shirazu mutters before kicking his legs up into the air, sheets rustling so noisily that Kuki doesn’t even have to turn to know what he’s doing. “D’ya think I should break up with him though?”

_ Yes. _

“Do you want to?”

“Do  _ you _ want me to?” 

They remain in some kind of stalemate for what feels like hours, staring each other in the eye until  _ something  _ gives. Something always has to give, but it’s never Kuki. He won’t.

“I think I do.” Someone says, and it takes Kuki a few seconds to realise it was himself, before his eyes widen and he’s blinking, panic overtaking every other sensation in his body until he’s numb, numb,  _ numb. _ “I mean. It’s. It’s none of my damn business. It - It doesn’t matter to me.”

Shirazu smiles, and Kuki knows he’s screwed.

Shirazu has never been spiteful, but the second he smiles like that Kuki thinks he’s going to mock him, shove it in his face at every available opportunity just because he can, just because it hurts.

“Don’t.” Kuki mutters, tone a hair off pleading. “Pl- Don’t, Shirazu.”

For a split moment of complete and utter terror, Kuki thinks he really must be ill. That’s the only thing that could explain why he’s so light headed and completely defenseless as Shirazu reaches out and curls his fingers around Kuki’s pinky.

“Don’t, what?” He asks, eyes disgustingly soft.

“Use this against me. Or pity me.” Kuki grunts, and he feels himself trembling just slightly - knows Shirazu can feel it too when he tightens his hold on Kuki’s hand. “Just forget we said anything today.”

He thinks that’s it when Shirazu draws back, nibbling his lower lip pensively. He stands, and Kuki can feel himself let out a sigh of relief (something in his chest starts to ache. He pushes it down).

“Uribo.” Shirazu kneels in front of him, looking him dead in the eyes. Any relief that had begun to relax his tense limbs is gone, replaced with more fear, more uncertainty.

(Kuki has only ever had one encounter anything like this, but instead of soft it was raw heat and lust. The boy had been kneeling, and their eyes had been locked, but it had been nothing but primal)

“Yer… an idiot.” The look on Shirazu’s face is smug, and, god, it stings. Kuki automatically flinches and Shirazu swallows thickly, expression dropping. “I didn’t mean it like - yer not stupid, sorry, but. How did ya not notice I’ve loved ya since the Academy?”

_ “What?”  _ Kuki sputters, “I think I would’ve noticed something like  _ that  _ by now.”

“Well, maybe yer not as observant as ya think.” They’d known each other since day one when Shirazu had busted into the class ten minutes late, panting and heaving, apologies flying from his mouth faster than anyone could comprehend. 

(Maybe that’s where he went wrong - thinking it all started with that boy, because it didn’t. It started the moment they met).

Kuki had hated Shirazu so much in that moment of disruption, without even knowing him, but somewhere along the line it had become a facade. Just a weak veneer nailed to his skin to prevent himself getting hurt.

“I.” He starts, breath wheezing in his chest. His heart beats faster, thumping so loudly he’s sure even Saiko, rooms away, can hear it. The words stick in his throat, digging impossibly deep into his soft underbelly. Right where it aches. “I-”

Shirazu doesn’t say a thing, just lets Kuki struggle to find the words to communicate what he means, but he’s not even really sure what he  _ does  _ mean. He knows that, deep down, he loves Shirazu. There never was a great epiphany, no  _ holy shit he’s the closest thing to a friend I have and this could potentially ruin that,  _ just denial and distraction. If he didn’t think about it, it couldn’t bother him.

If Shirazu hadn’t brought home that boy then he wouldn’t have had to confront himself.

He has no idea how to convey this, and maybe Shirazu realises, because he pulls himself up until his face is so close to Kuki’s that he can feel his warm breath washing over his face.

“Can I… Can I kiss ya?” Shirazu’s fingers tighten on Kuki’s knee, press into the fabric of his slacks until it undoubtedly wrinkles, but all Kuki can see is the wet shine of Shirazu’s mouth getting closer and closer with every second that passes.

“Please.” Kuki mutters and bridges the gap.

There aren’t fireworks, just the solid warmth of Shirazu’s chest against his, and his calloused hand cupping Kuki’s cheek. There aren’t fireworks, but there are Shirazu’s broad shoulders underneath his palms, free for Kuki to touch and touch and touch as much as he’d like. As much as he  _ needs. _

There aren’t fireworks, but they don't need any.


End file.
